


The Five Basic Tastes

by seekthis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22406425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekthis/pseuds/seekthis
Summary: Curious Cat Prompt: "Restaurant AU where Kylo is an executive chef on the rise, known for his crazy rule breaking cuisine and terrible temper. Rey is a server at his restaurant in the evenings, but studying at Luke’s very traditional culinary school during the day."
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 95
Collections: Reylo Prompt Fills (@reylo_prompts)





	1. Bitter

The hum of the fridge in the back of the kitchen is loud enough to quiet out the sound of her heart beating so very loudly in her ears.  _ Fuck fuck fuck fuck  _ she thinks as she swipes angrily at the tears coming heavy and fast. It had happened so quick she hadn’t even had time to register her mistake. One moment she was picking up several plates and the next her hands are empty.

“Are you a fucking moron?” He had hissed coming around to the collection side, slamming down the ladle in his hand so hard on the metal work surface it dents “GET  _ HER _ THE FUCK OUT MY SIGHT”

Not that she had needed telling as the hot heat of embarrassment took her to hide in the dark of the store room. She hates him so much. 

_ Yes _ she had been at fault and  _ yes _ she did know it was a $300 dish that was wasted on her work pants and shirt but god she hates him so much. The smell of the pickled mussels infused with an earl grey salmon make her eyes pour out a fresh batch of tears. She makes a futile attempt of swiping the sludge of the Thai green sauce off her shirt as the door suddenly slams open. With the harsh fluorescent light pouring in comes the sound of crashing plates and yelling. 

“Rey!” she hears Rose say panicked into the dark “Get out of here, Solo is losing it out there”

She can’t help leaning her head against the cool metal of the vegetable shelves.

“I’ll talk Hux round, come back tomorrow, it’ll be fine” she hears her sigh “I got to go before he wrecks the whole place”

The door clangs shut once more. 

_ Fuck _

Miraculously, she manages to get out without having to see him. Stepping over broken plates and food all over the floor. She feels the panic gripping her throat as she hurries to grab her bag out of her locker. 

Once out on the street, the cold of the night sobers her up to the realisation that she’ll probably not be paid therefore not make rent. Again. 

As well as that, the guilt of probably costing Solo a positive review from Snoke. He’d been prepping for the past 6 months since he’d joined IRResistible. With him had come the hours of extra polishing, measuring finger spaces for glass to plate distance and the endless belittling. She had been proud to be the only member of staff to not have been caught on the tail end of one his tirade and/or rages since his arrival from France. She feels the bubbling of hysterical laughter in the base of her throat as she walks. 

The ridiculousness of him. She’d once watched him from the corner of her eye, heaven forbid making eye contact with him, as he placed and replaced  _ froth. FROTH. _ Smearing it across a plate several different ways and angles. 

It had made her start watching him. She couldn’t help it, she’d see how long she could go without doing so and fail. She had started making notes in her head of his techniques. 

How he holds his knife.  _ Delicate and sure. _

How he tastes with his eyes closed, dark lashes fanning across his pale skin.

How he smells the ingredients rather than looking for the perfectly shaped ones. 

But then there is the aftermath of those moments that her respect for him dissipates into thin air. 

The way in which she sees him puff up; his mere presence bring a hush to team lunches. Sometimes she would daydream of chatting loudly ignoring him completely but she is normally too hungry to even attempt it, favouring instead to stuff herself with the food offered till she has to unbutton her pants. Sometimes it's her only meal the entire day so naturally she takes what is given with vigour. 

On several occasions, seeing the way his eyes settled on her as her fork scraps loudly on her plate, she chooses to look away before she can see the distaste on his face. 

The taste of a pistachio crumb tart encasing a potato galette with dill and double cream filling will be the last meal she will have had at IRResistible. She doubts she’ll ever eat again in an establishment that tags a side salad with a $70 price tag. 

He’ll get her blacklisted. He’ll have her name known to every restaurant in New York and she’ll never be employed. Not even to sell bagels.

_ Fuck _

The minute she gets into her shoe box of an apartment, not turning on the light. Her landlord may see the light and the last thing she needs is him breathing down her neck.

She jumps into the cold shower scrubbing the hot anger of him from her skin, getting out when she feels so cold she is almost calm. 

Making a plan of what she has to do:

-Drop out of school in the morning, 

-Sell her laptop or risk being homeless, she can’t do that again.

-Drop off her keys at the restaurant.

_ Fuck _


	2. Sour

**Sour**

At times he feels he is waiting for something more. Time seems to run away from him and slow in equal measures that he cannot comprehend if he is in the now or stuck in a loop of the past. The anger always surging and raging on inside him. 

He enjoys the monotony of peeling and chopping for hours on end. To not have to think.

There is a relief in not thinking of timings, expectations and the never ending weight that is placed on having his father as his father. 

_ He would do it this way or that  _ He’d hear incessantly so he kills it all. 

Runs away to Paris to Snoke and drink. 

IRResistible sits on the end of 46th Street, seating a mere 30 heads at a time. Before he’d been hired he had seen its potential, like most things it needed refining. Order and precision. Crisp lines, dim light and a holy sort of ambience that good food deserves. Armatiage Hux had only asked that the staff would be kept on, much to his annoyance. 

So he pushes them, hoping they leave. Only Amilyn Holdo had left with fire in her heels and words. To think, all it took was asking her to reset a table for the fourth time.

“I worked for your father and much as you try you will never be him, you just don’t have _ it _ ” her departing words. 

He had to hand it to her, she knew the words to say. No shouting or cursing, just a swift sharp gutting. 

He’d had to replace three tables worth of wine glasses.

Still endlessly they work with their secrets and stories between them as he watches from the outside. So he pushes more, only to find them solid. 

Finn and Poe constant echoes of “ _YES CHEF_ ” following his every demand. 

Hux smirks at him with a knowing glint in his eyes, enjoying his discomfort of not being able to rid himself of them.

Then there is _ her. _

With her eyes that follow him even though she thinks herself subtle, her minute head tilt betrays her. It's like she looks at him and knows, she can tell something is wrong. Like he doesn’t belong. 

And yes that is  _ true _ but her face betrays her, her little huffs under her breath and the wide spaces she leaves between them, though she has no sense of personal space with both staff and patrons alike. Her helping with jackets and seats, offerings of a forearm to the elderly or swaying drunks, a long hard hug to Finn every morning as if it is her sustenance. 

He wondered at once if they’re fucking but rethinks his hypothesis upon seeing the way Rose’s usually determined face softens and reddens around Finn. He’d happened upon Rose and Finn having breakfast together in a cheap diner on his morning run, only for them to arrive 20 minutes apart between each other.

There had been an instance not too long ago that he had asked her to pass him the nights revised menu and she had slid it across rather than hand it to him, when he had thanked her she had replied with a sarcastic short lilt “O-kay” for an answer. As if the mere presence of him had left a  _ sour _ taste in her mouth. 

So he starts to watch her back. 

Only to find her eyes slide away, often downcast and lips set in a stern pout. He observes how her smile fills her whole face and the earnest way she gives thanks for a measly tip, hand over her breast. She eats like a demon though is a slip of a thing, he can’t stand the way she shovels food into her mouth and the non stop scraping of her fork against plates. He’d invent a forever filling bowl just to make it cease.

When Finn overcooks a steak one shift, his anger boils outwards. He’s not proud of his reaction. He feels them pull away from him, shun him more. It feeds his anger; their lack of wanting to be better, their lack of wanting perfection. 

The day after “The incident” he’d been met with a frosty silence. Then he’d happened into her sat outside Hux’s office, leg bouncing and head bowed. Eyes widening upon seeing him. 

“Hux isn’t here yet” Brow furrowing instantly “I’ll come back later” she had added bolting past him and out.

He could hear the murmuring of hushed voices then a slam of a door. When he’d finally built up the annoyance to see what others were doing in his absence he finds them sat together faces stern. 

“Dinner service is in three hours, why are you all sat?” he had asked astounded at them

“If she is fired, we will all quit” Rose bit out “Every single one of us”

All this for a server. Every single one of them would be out of his life, his restaurant to restart in his image. He had found himself smiling. _Is that all it’d take?_

“Okay” 

“WHAT?!” Poe half screamed shocked.

“You can’t do that” Rose added he remembers standing up, hand slamming on the table. Her anger almost giving his a run for it’s money.

“You’ve all quit” he had supplied. Surely it had been  _ obvious _ .

Except it wasn’t. Armitage wouldn’t let sleeping dogs lie.

So here he was stood outside Rey’s apartment door, 7 in the morning barely slept or awake. He hasn’t chosen which state to describe what he was yet. 

Armitage had made it simple, his staff where not to be replaced as they are loyal. By loyal he had also meant cheap too. A part of Ben thinks this is terrible but then that same part dies when Armitage adds that their stipulations to return had been for him to go to Rey’s apartment and apologies. 

He had managed to get Snoke to return in a month’s time.  _ Barely _ . With a promise of his funding for his own restaurant, he’d only have to deal with her for such a small amount of time. He pounds the door yet again.

“Fuck’s sake! I’m coming! Plutt, I’ve already told you next month’s rent will be lat-” he hears before the door jerked open. She freezes instantly.  _ Jesus  _ He thinks looking over her dishevelled hair, thin tank and sleep shorts.

“Are you here to gloat?” she huffs crossing her arms, leaning her head against the door frame, tiredly. He takes in the purple tint under her eyes.

“No” he says watching her mouth set into a hard line as he looks over her shoulder into her apartment. If it can be called that. A mattress on the floor, a small rail of clothes, a sink and microwave to one side. The guilt washes over him instantly. 

“Actually” he begins unsure how to word it now he knows what he knows “I’ve come to say you’re not fired”

She freezes again, slowly standing upright again “What?” she says so softly it sounds like an exhale.

“We need all hands on deck, even if they are clumsy ones” is what comes out instead of an apology. Yes a bit more malice in his voice than he intended but it doesn’t make him prepared for when he shifts his weight to turn and leave when he hears  _ it. _

“You ever talk to me or anyone like that ever again, I’ll  _ fucking  _ end you”

The thrill it sends down him is undeniable. 

“ _ Understood? _ ” she asks looking up at him, crowding his space so much he can feel the heat of her. She looks angry; flushed and rigid with it.

“Yep” he says a little dumb from the surprise of it.

“Great” she mutters disgust in her voice as she turns on her heels and slams the door in his face.


	3. Salt

It’s like he can’t stop noticing her now.

She’s right there in the forefront of his mind and vision now, all shift long. Looking more tired than someone of her years should. He notices her in the afternoon sat on the back stoop reading in the hazy cold winter light, that thin jacket wrapped around her doing nothing and a mug of tea in the other hand. She ignores him as she chats with Poe and Finn about specials and wine pairings they’ve decided on weeks ago, talking through them to get answers from him.

Her eyes drifting to the dent he’d left on the collection table the night before before flicking up to his face. She flinches before looking away, lips pursed and body rigid.

He starts seeing the delicate bones of her wrist trembling as she collects plate after plate. Lips set in a determined grimace as she ignores the hot heat of the cast iron pan that catches her finger for a second.

The way her eyes settle on Rose and Finn’s hands and the sad look that settles on her face before she looks away, busying herself with polishing or cleaning of non existent dirt. 

How she eats everything offered without hesitation. Even Poe had turned his nose up at the Haggis, while she loads her plate up. Went back for seconds.

How could he not have seen this before he thinks. It doesn’t help that he keeps thinking back to that sad apartment, That mattress on the floor.

His mind occasionally straying back to the way the blush creeped up her throat with her anger. The way she had stepped into his space, no thought that he was double her size. That thin tank exposing the shape of her tits, threadbare cotton highlighted the buds of her nipples. It brings a low heat into his belly that he can’t seem to shake.

He doesn’t understand why Armitage, with his bourgeoisie tendencies, keeps this rag tag group around.

He is not aware of _it_ till Armitage mentions that Rey is taking culinary classes during the day when he complains that she should work less as punishment for messing up the night before, that she looks tired and that no one wants to see that, they’ll lose money.

Armitage levels him with a glare “She’s a good worker, she needs this more than anyone”

This makes him think hard as he sets about that night’s orders. Even all the prep he had done for the last three hours can’t erase his mind from returning to the same conclusion.

She keeps her distance from him all shift.

Finn is still angry it seems. His “Yes Chef” falling flat all dinner service.

It’s not till the end of the shift that he finds himself eavesdropping on Poe and Finn.

“I don’t think she’ll like that” he hears Finn says “she hates feeling like a charity case”

Poe slaps his shoulder “that’s the beauty of it my man, Christmas means gifting!”

“She’ll have your head, giving her dark chocolate butter or some of that French truffle, that’s Christmas but paying her tuition fees that’s charity, she won’t go for that. You’ll embarrass her”

——

Ben Solo is watching her with hooded half mast eyes over the rim of his glass. No subtlety whatsoever in the slightest. Probably plotting how to be rid of her. She has watched him dismantle a whole pig with more ease than it should’ve taken. 

If it hadn’t been for the fact that she is stone cold sober she’d have thought herself drunk, poisoned or hallucinating. All shift he had been tracking her, so naturally she refuses to fall for his trap. He wants her to lose it like Amaliyn, that much is obvious.

She thinks of what her last words would be, she suspects she wouldn’t stoop as low as Amaliyn had. To use a dead father as ammunition seems far too below the belt.

His eyes track her as she makes her way across the floor collecting glasses, bottles and straightening chairs. 

God she’s _so_ tired, what a cluster fuck of a day. This morning she had been ready to go haggle for more money than her shitty laptop was worth, drop out of school and give Ben Solo a piece of her mind.

But none of it had come to fruition. _Okay_ maybe giving him a piece of her mind but it was more of a threat than anything really. The way he’d agreed had surprised her if she's honest with herself. 

Luke had watched her keenly as she slipped in late. $39 dollars worth of tuition down the drain right there. For that he’d made her prep an inhumane amount of vegetables. She barely took enough notes to show for her time there. Solo had well and truly ruined her day. 

She just wants to go home, lie down and be consumed by sleep so deep that could be classified as a coma. 

She’s not felt this tired since the last time she’d had to bounce, barely had time to scramble her shoes on. She has gotten too relaxed she thinks to herself. 

_People are snakes_ something in her mind hisses _nobody wants you-_ it adds. 

“Why is he looking here?” Rose says under her breath taking her out of her thoughts.

“Fuck if I know” She returns as she clocks him standing up and making his way over. She grabs a cloth to wipe the bar top.

“I can’t believe he came to your apartment! Armitage came through like I told you” Rose snickers before adding in a panicked way “ _Shit_ he’s coming over” 

“Can I get another scotch?”

“Sure” she finds herself saying quickly wanting him gone, avoiding looking at him as she turns and flings more ice than a finger of scotch really needs into the glass and slides it in what she hopes is his direction before turning to unload the glass washer.

Rose turns and leaves upon sensing the uncomfortable tension “I’m going to go help Finn with the bins”

She hears him clear his throat and hopes him sat back down away. 

She puts the glasses in their cabinets, careful not to leave a smudge on them. Losing herself in organising them by size. Van Morrison crooning about his sweet thing lulling her into a false sense of calm. When she turns to grab a cloth she finds him just standing there, leaning against the bar straight and still. Like a large looming statue casting a shadow over her.

His dark eyes locked on her. Rey just keeps looking up at him, she feels her jaw tightening instinctively. For a long time, it’s felt like they’re teetering on the edge of something.

His pale skin luminous, his broad shoulders tight, large hands nursing his glass and lick of his bottom lip before he starts opening his mouth but she cuts him off

“I’m tired-” she supplies hoping it is enough to get him to leave her alone _too tired for this whatever this is._

“-Look I” he sighs “I was just going to apologise” He continues with a huff of annoyed in his tone.

“Oh?” it humours her that he’d think that an apology “For?” 

_Ah_ there it is. That rolling anger he carries around, shifting it as he moves his weight forward. His large hands flat, thick fingers fanned on the marble surface. His eyes take her in a slow calculated way. 

“Everything cool guys?” Poe asks lightly as he makes his way from the kitchen.

“Yes” she smiles his direction, leaving Solo to stew heading towards the staff room. 

The last thing she expects is him hot on her heels, door slamming open as she tries not to flinch from the loud crack of the door handle hitting the wall. 

“I apologised” He says filling her personal space with his body voice low “What more do you _want_?”

“Is that what that was?” She manages as his eyes search into her eyes in a way that can only be described as disturbing as she steps back.

“I need my team to work and they’ll do it if you accept my apology”

Oh so that is what this is. He wants an out, a simple let off. It doesn’t work that way.

“I don’t want one, I certainly don’t need it” 

“Oh? So you’re not making me chase you like a child?” He hisses 

“I’m not the one throwing tantrums like a toddler!” she bites out with a laugh, the sneer on his face hardens “As I recall several episodes-”

“At least I have emotions like real human” He says pointing a finger in her face “I’m not the one who is some bottled up repressed _nobody_ living in a room, sleeping on a mattress on the floor!” he yells “Hiding in the shadows, accepting scraps of a life” 

She feels like she’s been slapped. Hard. And the hot wet tears are coming now. He falls silent, hands fisted. God she is _so_ tired. _So very tired and humiliated and crying in front of him._ She scrubs her face with her hands, she must look a mess. She needs to leave. Get out from under his eyes. His fucking words.

She hears the crack of plaster as his fist makes a hole through the wall. 

“FUCK!” He screams as she grabs her coat and slams her locker closed. 

Finn, Rose and Poe hot on their heels run in. 

“I hate you _so_ much” she yells in his direction before leaving. 

  
She hates him _so much._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have got serious, don’t you think? 
> 
> I love comments they really push me x


End file.
